Starcross

Chapter Eighteen

            “Yeah,” James laughed. “Try carrying them around during a fire fight.”

            “Ha ha, no thanks.” She dropped one of the canisters on the stack and held up her hands in mock defense. “I’m much happier to stay under cover during those.”

            “In cover,” James corrected. “Under cover is like when you infiltrate the mob.”

            “Oh, look at you. Mr. Soldier with the correct terms and all.”

            James smiled and nodded as he lifted another pair of cans. A sharp crack! echoed from across the courtyard followed by two more in quick succession. Popping, like that of gunfire heard from a distance, reached them next. Grabbing two canisters that read .50 BMG 250 ROUNDS, James led Rebecca out of the walled area used for lawn maintenance equipment and saw that she got safely inside the office before rushing back to his station.

            Dropping down and rolling over the edge he let go of the extra ammunition near Nick’s feet as he stood on the machine gun ready to cut down any Druidth that showed themselves on the streets that led away from the complex. James then snatched up his rifle and sighted down the sight towards his area and waited.

            “You just had to say something about them not messing with us.” Doug held up a pair of field binoculars and scanned ahead. “Talk about jinxing it.”

Alpha Line

Pimmit Hill, Virginia

 

            Spinnaker lifted himself off the ground, just high enough to see the fat Chinook helicopter touch down and the ‘fresh’ troopers come off the back, scrambling to get where they need to be. Fresh being the key word as most of them were past middle age; Vietnam vets who volunteered to show that they could still fight. Carrying M-16’s older than him and sporting pot bellies and long hair most of the reinforcements half jogged to the second trench line nearly a quarter mile behind where Spinnaker was now.

            Concentric rings made up the defensive line of Washington, with the third most line consisting of anyone who owned a suitable gun. It was estimated that the third line would break in less than thirty minutes if hit with full force. He was here to make sure it didn’t come to that.

            When the helicopter was empty of soldiers and supplies it lifted off, seeming to float on the air like a fat bug before turning back toward the city proper disappearing in the failing light of the coming night.

            A whine of ozone, a popping of superheated gasses and one of the older men fell forward into the dirt and didn’t get up.